


Mom

by ynot-stark (Loxendiel)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, BAMF Bruce Banner, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton is a Little Shit, Implied Past Child Abuse, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, The OC is just the kid so he's not paired with anybody, Thor Is Not Stupid, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, but not super important, mostly a foil to Tony, references to x-men, sporadic updates because author is a Piece of Shit™
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxendiel/pseuds/ynot-stark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Never pictured Tony as the type." Bruce muttered, seeming to read his mind, as he added more salt to the homemade mac and cheese he was preparing for dinner. </p><p>"Me either." Steve admitted, feeling guilty. He'd always assumed Tony would be too self-absorbed or stubborn to comprehend and react to the behavior of a child. </p><p>---</p><p>Or the one where the team gets put on babysitting duty, Tony is extremely uncomfortable, and Steve is curious. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And So It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably be slow going until the summer because I'm a nerd and don't know how to say know so I'm being pulled six different directions at once while trying to maintain my GPA. whoops. 
> 
> Anyway, since I only have a vague idea of where this story is going, I'm super open for suggestions and what not from you all. I don't mind writing explicit stuff, so If you would like me to write an explicit version too, or do explicit side stories that's cool and I'll get working on them.

"Do we have a name yet?" Steve asked, plopping into one of the uncomfortable seats in the SHIELD conference room. The fabric of his uniform, tight and sticky from blood that he hadn't had the chance to wash out yet, itched as it rubbed against the grey fabric of the chair. 

The rest of his team looked equally unsettled as they also seated themselves at the conference table. 

"Cassius Arsenyev." Coulson responded roughly. "He's seven and, as you all have figured out, is a holder of the X-gene."

"What else do we know about him?" Bruce inquired, looking interested. 

"He's Russian." Natasha said flatly. 

"Yes," Coulson conceded, "And we know he was in the foster care system before Stryker got to him -" 

"Do we even know why Stryker wanted the brat?" Clint questioned, blue eyes sharp with irritation. 

"Hill is working with Charles Xavier on that right now." Coulson retorted evenly. 

"Why can't we just leave the kid with Xavier and be done with it?" Tony asked, speaking up for, surprisingly, the first time. 

"Because Xavier's school is full of children and we can not afford to risk their lives by placing Arsenyev in their home. Until we take care of Stryker, and understand his current motives, you're stuck with him." 

"We're stuck with him?" Tony asked, eyes wide with genuine incredulity and an undercurrent of panic. 

"You can't expect him to stay in a top secret government facility." Coulson said. Steve could detect a smirk, just barely hidden with a twitch of the lips. "And after all, who better to protect him than a team of superheroes?" 

_____________________

It was only a few hours later when a SHIELD agent dropped the child off at Avengers Tower, giving the team little warning before sending him up alone on the elevator. 

The team had been further debriefed on the situation including, eventually, a rundown of the boy's abilities. He was a mimicker - Coulson had relayed to them that the boy had perfectly copied agent Hill's voice, and had forged a perfect replica of Xavier's signature. Coulson had also stressed that the boy had remarkable control over his abilities for someone so young, and that he was most certainly not to be trusted. 

It was hard to take that last warning seriously now, when a small brunette child with bright green eyes stepped out of the elevator looking utterly lost and so alone. A large red sweatshirt swallowed his small frame, and it was with alarm that Steve realized the child wasn't wearing shoes. 

"Where am I?" The voice was timid, shy, and laced with a familiar accent. Steve shot a glance to Natasha. 

"They did not tell you?" She asked, letting her accent shine through. The boy seemed to brighten a bit. 

"Nyet." He said, a wary look still swimming in his eyes. 

"You're in the Avengers Tower. Do you know who the Avengers are?" Natasha took a step forward, and Steve tried to ignore the spike of concern that went through him when the child flinched back. 

"Da." 

The boy didn't seem inclined to say more, and even went to pull the fabric of his sweatshirt closer to himself. Steve's heart ached for the kid. 

"Do you have a suitcase?" Tony asked, stepping forward and kneeling close to the kid, but farther away than Natasha had been to cause the boy to flinch. 

"I have nothing." 

Steve saw the way Tony's shoulders tensed, and forced down the urge to ask what was wrong. 

"Then we'll just have to fix that. How 'bout it squirt?" Tony's grin seemed to be infectious because a smile worked its way on to the boy's face. 

_________________________________

Steve glanced over from where he was sitting in the kitchen, to where Tony and Cassius were coloring over in the common room. Occasionally a giggle would erupt before a light banter started between the two. 

Steve had never been good with kids, though people expected him to be. It seemed Tony was the exact opposite. 

"Never pictured Tony as the type." Bruce muttered, seeming to read his mind, as he added more salt to the homemade mac and cheese he was preparing for dinner. 

"Me either." Steve admitted, feeling guilty. He'd always assumed Tony would be too self-absorbed or stubborn to comprehend and react to the behavior of a child. 

_______________________________

Dinner had gone well. Cassius seemed to have come out of his shell, and even told them about his parents. His father, he informed them, was an artist, while his mother was a writer. 

He didn't talk about their deaths or his time in foster care. 

He didn't really need to - Steve didn't miss how little the boy ate, or how he'd sneak pieces of bread from the table into the giant pocket in his sweatshirt. 

He'd caught Tony staring at the kid a few times, and couldn't explain the nearly palpable level of anguish he saw in the man's eyes. 

Natasha saw it too, apparently, because she'd cornered Tony right after dinner. However, her interrogation had been interrupted by Clint calling for help with something. 

Steve, however,had known for a fact that the archer had reported back to SHIELD to deal with the Stryker situation. 

Steve let an amused smirk come to his features, when Cassius came waltzing into the room a moment later and yanked on Tony's sleeve. 

"I'm sleepy." 

"I'll bet you are." Tony grinned, taking the boy's hand and leading him towards one of the guest bedrooms. 

Steve watched them go with a smile on his face.   
_____________________________

"What gives, Stark?" Clint asked upon his return from SHIELD, long after Cassius had been put to bed. "Since when did you become the child whisperer?" 

Tony shrugged, looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

Steve was reminded of the look Tony gave when they'd found out the boy would be staying with them; the look of panic. 

"You are really good with him Tony." Steve said, gauging the man's reaction. There was a slight stiffening of the shoulder's, and an awkward nod of acknowledgment, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to accept the compliment. 

"I guess." He admitted, finally. 

"Well it's true." Clint said. "And that's why Fury wants you to talk to the kid and figure out everything he knows. The foster home he was with never reported him missing, but when we sent agents over there they revealed that he'd been gone for a month, which-" 

"Which means he could have been with Stryker for the duration." Steve finished, feeling a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Christ." Tony mumbled. "If Stryker did what he did with the other mutants then-" 

"He didn't." Natasha cut in. "Arsenyev's mental state is too healthy to have been through such an ordeal." 

Tony gave her a skeptical look. 

"That's not to say that there wasn't something else going on." She amended. 

"There had to have been something." Bruce said somberly, leaning back in his chair. "He's too young to have had the X-gene activate normally. It must have been a result of trauma or severe stress."

"His parents died in a car crash." Clint supplied. Steve didn't miss the flash of potent, churning emotion in Tony's eyes, but shoved his concern aside for later. 

"The files Hill sent over said that happened when he was four. Why would Stryker wait three years?" Steve asked. 

"Maybe he hadn't heard of the kids abilities?" Clint supplied, sounding skeptical. The man was just as aware as Steve was about the underground network of sources Stryker had set up all over the country to alert him of mutant activity. 

"Or it was something more recent." Tony said.

The room was filled with a brief, tense silence before Steve let out a long sigh. 

"I'm sure SHIELD is working on it right now. And in this case, I'm not sure there is much we can accomplish that they can't." He paused for a moment and glanced over at Tony. The man was sitting, rigidly, and looked just as uncomfortable as he had when the conversation started. "Tony, you continue trying to build a relationship with him, since he seems to like you the most. Try to get any informa-

"I got it Steve." Tony snapped, harsher than he meant to if the stunned look that graced his face immediately afterwards was anything to go by. "I'm going to go check on him." 

The rest of the team watched him leave in silence, the only noise was the soft ding of the elevator as it came to take the man upstairs. 

The silence remained for a few moments after Tony left, before Clint asked the question they were all wondering. "What the hell is his problem?"

"I don't know." Bruce responded, drawing everybody's eyes to him. "But he's been acting odd ever since he heard a child would be staying with us." 

"Perhaps he does not enjoy the company of young humans?" Thor asked, rather loudly, but seriously. 

"But there is no evidence to support that." Natasha rebutted. "He actually seemed to like spending time with Arsenyev." 

"Maybe he relates to him." Steve murmured, and suddenly everyone's eyes were on him. 

"How in the hell could Stark possibly relate to this kid?" Clint asked, incredulity apparent in his tone. 

"Shitty childhood?" Bruce suggested, uncharacteristically deadpan. 

"Then how come I'm not freaking out?" Clint retorted. 

"Because you're a trained assassin, and he's practically a civilian." Natasha said, jabbing an elbow into Clint's ribs. 

"I don't think that's it." Steve said. "Or, at least, not all of it. Cassius latched onto Tony, out of all of us, over Nat who speaks his language. Maybe-"

"I think we should stop speculating and just ask him." Bruce said, becoming increasingly agitated at all of the pointless theorizing. 

"Bruce is right." Natasha said, plopping herself down on the couch. "So who's it going to be?" 

"I'll do it." Steve volunteered, almost immediately. He caught a knowing look from Natasha and felt heat rising to his cheeks as he hastily left the room to ring the elevator.   
______________________________


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this instead of my english paper because my english paper is on 9/11 and im really not feeling it. 
> 
> anyway tony is surprisingly good with nightmares (wonder why), steve is now dr. phil's apprentice
> 
> i don't even know im running on like an hour of sleep and some of the sentences sound like shitty poetry on accident

Steve stepped off the elevator on Tony's floor, and where normally he would be stuck wandering around searching for the man, the panicked screaming from down the hall immediately alerted him to the man's location. 

He wasted no time in rushing towards the room, but slowed his pace to a halt in front of the door, taking a moment to observe what was going on inside. If Tony noticed him, he didn't mention it. 

The room was a guest room, obviously the one Tony had set up for the kid, who was at this moment screaming and kicking furiously as Tony tried to hush him and calm him down. Steve was fighting every urge in his body to step in there and intervene, try to help, but he knew the kid wouldn't take kindly to that, so he stayed where he was. 

"Shh, it's okay Cas. It's okay, you're not there anymore, you're not -" 

"They'll come for me! They always come!" Cas screamed, and Steve would be hard-pressed to think of an instance when he had heard more anguish in a child's voice than in that moment. But if Steve thought he was having trouble, one look at the absolutely wrecked look on Tony's face...

"Who?" Tony asked, giving up on trying to pull the child into a hug, in favor of laying down on the other side of the bed. Steve knew he was trying to appear nonthreatening. He shouldn't have been surprised that Tony would know what to do, but he was. And he felt slightly ashamed, but it also made his heart feel lighter. It was the unmistakeable feeling of pride welling up in his chest as he watched the other man. 

He shook himself away from his thoughts when the boy murmured something. 

"The Suit People?" Tony asked, bemused. "You mean the people that take you to new homes?" 

"Not homes!" Cassius shouted, and tears began falling again. Tony looked as if he had been physically struck, and Steve winced. "Not homes." 

"They're mean to you, huh?" Tony asked, voice soft as he rolled over so his whole body was facing the young child. The boy nodded, unfolding his arms from where they had been hugging his knees. 

"They don't like me because I can't sleep." The boy revealed, voice wavering whenever a new bout of tears trickled down his splotchy red face. 

"My parents didn't like that either." Tony said, surprising not only Cassius, but Steve as well. 

"Why can't you sleep?" Cassius asked, lowering his knees into a criss-cross position and turning his body more fully towards Tony.

"When I was about your age some bad people took me," Tony said, voice cracking slightly. He paused for longer than normal conversation would allow, before continuing, "They didn't like me much either." Tony confided. Steve could see that the man's back was tense, and imagined that Tony's brows were furrowed like they usually were when he was upset. 

"What did they do?" Cassius asked. Steve knew he should turn away, that he was infringing on Tony's right to privacy, but he couldn't. A twisted ball of curiosity and dread pulsed in his stomach as he waited for Tony to answer.

"At first they did nothing," Tony murmured. "They locked me in a room, but they didn't hurt me. I was in there for a long time before they came back. They told me my father didn't do what they wanted him to - they weren't happy. " 

"Did..." Cassius trailed off, looking unsure. "Did they use a belt?" 

Tony visibly winced, but shook his head. "No, not these people." 

Steve tried not to over-analyze the implications of that statement, but found himself wondering about it anyway. 

"These people didn't feed me and they left me in a dark, wet room." Tony said, before continuing almost to himself, "There were rats." 

"My second family left me in the attic. There were rats there too." Cassius murmured, finally unfolding completely to lay down next to Tony. Steve smiled in spite of himself. 

The conversation lulled into silence for a long time, and Steve was just about ready to leave and put off talking to Tony until the morning when the little boy spoke up again. 

"Mr. Tony?" He asked, waiting until he had Tony's attention. "Do you miss your parents?" 

Tony seemed startled by the question, and if his back wasn't tense before, it was now. Steve could see the rippling of his muscles under the tailored shirt he was wearing. "I miss my mom." 

"Sometimes," Cassius murmured, wiping what Steve suspected were the last of the tears away from his face, "I still taste their blood." 

"You were in the car with them, weren't you?" Tony asked. Steve was once again shocked by how perceptive Tony could be.At least with respect to people - Steve knew Tony could put together two different formulas from five hundred years apart that had no prior connection just by seeing the correlation in patterns, or whatever. But with people Stark seemed oblivious - of course he could charm anyone and everyone, could play off their superficial wants and needs. But anything closer to the heart - sadness, anger, guilt - seemed to fly right over the brunette's head. 

Cassius nodded, and grabbed one of Tony's hands, lifting it in the air and playing with the fingers. 

Steve would have found it adorable if their topic of conversation was different. 

"Mommy was alive for awhile, but then she left too." Cassius murmured. 

"I wasn't there when my parents died." Tony revealed, wrapping his fingers gently around the boy's hand. "But I was supposed to be." 

Steve felt like he'd just been hit by a ten-ton brick, like all the air in his body had been stolen from him. He'd had his suspicions about the Stark car crash - it was too convenient, and he wasn't the only one who thought so. Natasha had revealed to him early on in their relationship as a team that she believed the crash was staged. 

Knowing that Tony was supposed to be in the car was surreal in the most unpleasant way; Tony might have survived the car crash and things might have been as they are now, but if the crash was an assassination, Tony would have died unequivocally and nothing would be the same. Tony wouldn't be here.

Stark Industries would be under control of Obadiah Stane, dealing to terrorists under the table. Iron Man wouldn't have been created, and the people he liberated and rescued would still be suffering or dead. New York would be a nuclear waste sight. Controversy over the decision to nuke New York would likely have caused the country to fall apart, perhaps into anarchy, perhaps into civil war. Even without that, the stocks would have been destroyed, not just on a national level, but international as well. The global economy would be in worse shape than ever, and political tensions would be at an all time high. Dictators and other power hungry leaders would use the opportunity to take advantage of smaller countries...

If Tony weren't here, the world wouldn't be here either. Or if it was, it would be a much darker place. 

"Why weren't you?" Cassius asked, pulling Tony' hand to his chest and drawing Steve's attention. Tony rolled onto his stomach to accommodate the movement before answering. 

"My dad's friend wanted to have me over for his Christmas Party." Tony said, but his voice was hollow and Steve wasn't quite sure if the lack of emotion was due to guilt or something else. 

The conversation lulled into silence again, and the boy was asleep within minutes. Steve waited for Tony to get up and leave, but all the other man did was roll over, presumably so his arc-reactor wouldn't be digging into the mattress, and pull the blanket up over the child before closing his eyes. 

Steve stared a moment longer, still bewildered by the interaction he had just witnessed between the two. He knew from the moment he met the boy that the child had been born with tragedy running through his veins, but he hadn't known that perhaps that same poison was coursing through Tony's system. Tony revealed more of himself to that child in only a day, than he had to the rest of the Avengers in over a year. The expression 'takes one to know one,' ran circles in Steve's mind, but before it had merely been a retort to childish insults. Now it had taken on an entirely new meaning. 

Pushing those thoughts away, Steve closed the door and made his way back to the main room on Tony's floor. He wasn't overly eager to go down to his room, and was tired enough to justify his decision to just sleep on the couch. 

Besides, it would give him a chance to ambush Tony in the morning before the man could slink off to the workshop or hide behind a Cassius sized excuse not to talk to anyone

 

\--------

 

Steve was woken by footsteps the following morning, and was vertical by the time Tony reached the end of the hallway. He seemed surprised to see Steve, but didn't say anything as he shuffled into the kitchen. 

He looked wrecked. Steve had seen Tony in the aftermath of battles, with blood and dirt caked on his skin, and sweat soaking his hair, but he was also vibrantly alive. This was different; dark eyes were outlined by dark circles, and hair that wasn't matted to his forehead was sticking up in every direction. His tailored white shirt was crumpled, and the first few buttons had come undone sometime in his sleep, allowing the light from the arc reactor to seep through and stain his skin blue. His belt was doing very little to keep his pants around his waist, and they had fallen to his hips. 

Steve wasn't sure when Tony had gotten so skinny, but the sharp V of his hip that was exposed under the untucked shirt was evidence that it wasn't a recent development. 

Tony turned and broke Steve's stare. "Coffee?" He asked, running a hand through his hair as he glanced over his shoulder at Steve. Steve nodded in response, not quite able to find words. 

He wanted to speak about last night, but he wasn't sure if Tony would be angry with him for listening. Of course, the other man hadn't said anything last night, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. 

"I don't want to talk about it." Tony said, as if he had been reading Steve's mind. He turned around and handed Steve a mug of coffee, before turning back and getting his own. 

"I know." Steve said, because he did. "But at some point you're going to have to." 

Tony ignored him and raised himself onto the counter, swinging his legs and allowing them to thump against the cabinets underneath. 

"Tony?" Steve asked, because he wasn't quite sure what to do with a silent Tony. Tony always spoke a mile a minute, but the silence was perhaps more unnerving because Steve had told him to do something and Tony didn't respond with anger or annoyance. 

He didn't really respond at all. 

"What?" Tony said. It might have been phrased as a question, but the tone implied he didn't want an answer. Steve gave him one anyway. 

"Do you think Cassius will be able to recover from his childhood?" 

Tony looked startled at the question, and Steve was secretly smug. He knew Tony wouldn't give answers about his own childhood, not directly anyway, but he and Cassius seemed to have enough in common that perhaps the other man would give something away without realizing it. 

He knew it was manipulative, to a certain degree, but it was also important information. Important, because whatever had been discussed last night had obviously brought up painful memories. Important because it was hurting Tony. 

"Maybe," Tony said. "If his childhood ended with us." 

Silence reigned for a moment as Steve waited to see if Tony would continue. He didn't. 

"Xavier will let him into the school once we find Stryker." Steve said. Tony shrugged and took a sip of coffee. To anyone else, it might have looked like he was bored of the conversation, but Steve had spent enough time watching Tony lately to know it wasn't boredom on his face. The downward tilt of his lips, the slight clench of his jaw and the shuddering blink of his eyes spoke of the sort of bitter resignation one feels when they have something to say, but can't find the energy to explain. 

Steve wanted to tell Tony he'd listen, but he knew if he did Tony would flee and rebuild his walls. It'd happened before. 

"He really seems to like you." Steve said after a moment. He saw a spark of bitterness in Tony's expression before a wry grin replaced it. 

"I'm the PR person for a reason," Tony said. "All of you have the people skills of a DMV employ 10 minutes before closing time." 

Steve laughed at that, and Tony gave him a weird look, but seemed to take it in stride. He hopped off the counter and refilled his coffee mug before turning to face Steve again. 

The look on his face wasn't what Steve expected. Tony looked annoyed. "Look, I don't care what you heard last night, and I don't care what conclusions you decide to draw from it, but I'm not talking about it. If that's why you're here, you can leave." 

Steve took it in stride; he'd been waiting for Tony to snap at him since the man woke up. He was surprised the man had tolerated him this long, so he said so. 

Tony turned to glare at him, "I was waiting for you to tell me what you wanted last night, but we covered that, didn't we?" 

Steve held back a wince, and fought down irritation. "Tony, ever since that kid came here, you've been acting strange. The team was worried so I volunteered to talk to you last night, but..." He trailed off and gestured down the hall to the kid's room. 

"They don't have to worry." Tony said.

"No, they don't," Steve agreed. "But they do anyway because they care about you and know something is wrong." 

"When did you get your Ph.D Dr. Phil?" Tony snapped, but there wasn't a whole lot of bite in it. After Steve had gotten to know Tony better, he realized there never was. 

"Didn't get a chance to go to college," Steve retorted. "I did get a chance to spend time with a mouthy idiot who didn't know how to take care of himself." 

"Was that idiot you?" Tony drawled, raiding an eyebrow. 

"Usually," Steve agreed. "I used to get in a lot of fights because I didn't know how to shut up. My mom would yell at me for being stupid, and patch me up so I could disappoint her again the next day. Don't regret it though." 

"Of course not," Tony said. The conversation lulled for a minute, and Steve could hear sirens in the streets below. "I was supposed to be in the car that night. My mom didn't want me to spend Christmas alone again." 

Steve looked up at the sound of Tony's voice, and waited for him to continue. 

"I didn't want to spend Christmas in a hotel in a foreign country while my father negotiated a price for the newest way to blow someone up." Tony took a swig of coffee, and heaved a sigh before continuing. "Obi--Stane invited me to spend it with him instead. I didn't want to, but my mom told me it was him or dad. I picked him." 

Steve looked at Tony's face, looked at how tired his eyes were, how guarded they were in spite of that. He looked at his face and knew there was more to the story, knew that it wasn't quite so simple. Because there was grief, yes, but there was also fear. 

"What happened next?" Steve asked. 

"A lot of vultures in suits, a lot of family friends crawling out of the woodwork like termites." Tony paused, and a weary, cynical smile curved his lips. "A lot of alcohol." 

Steve waited, to see if there was more, but there wasn't. 

Tony heaved a sigh, and turned away from Steve. "I only told you because I know you heard me last night." 

Steve nodded, even though Tony couldn't see him. He didn't quite care at that moment, because with Tony leaving, he finally let himself think. 

Tony only told him because he didn't tell him what was important. And if Steve hadn't been there last night, he wouldn't have told him at all. 

It bothered Steve because it hurt, and he hid the hurt behind annoyance, but it was still there. He wanted Tony to trust him, he wanted Tony to tell him the whole truth. Not just about what happened with the car crash, but about everything. 

If it meant giving up all of his secrets, he'd do it, but he knew it was more complicated than that. It had to be, because Tony was complicated; he was hope shielded by cynicism, and a man inside a mask inside a mask, he was layers of truth. Truth protected by honesty and omission. He gave a piece, but not the whole puzzle.

He hadn't told Steve a lie, but he hadn't told him everything. 

He didn't have a price for his secrets and not because he had nothing to gain. It was because giving up his secrets meant giving Steve the pieces and trusting him to keep the puzzle when he saw everything that made it whole.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Clint spend time alone with the kid. Sorry I am trash. I've been so busy OTL

Tony had shuffled off around noon to attend some kind of board meeting the Pepper had very audibly lambasted him for attempting to put off. 

Steve found that the longer he spent as team leader and liaison to SHIELD, the more he could relate. Even if listening to the friends bicker like an old married couple bordered on alarming at times. 

Still, with Tony gone, the kid had taken to eyeing everyone with cynical, big, wide eyes. Steve shot a smile in his direction, and a small wave, but he had no better luck than he had the first time he'd tried. 

"He's a pretty little ray of pitch black." Clint said, coming to stand next to him. Cassius was sitting at the kitchen table, the corner farthest away from the counter where Steve was leaning. 

"He's scared," Steve said. 

"I know," Clint said, "But not like a kid." 

Steve glanced to the kid again, and couldn't help but agree. He didn't have an abundance of experience with children, but he thought that they probably didn't typically act redolent of a cornered animal when frightened. 

They shriveled with fear, became submissive and dissolved into tears. They didn't tense up and glare, ripple with nerves and energy that spoke of a willingness to fight. 

The kid was scared. But not of the unknown, not of what could happen to him, but instead of what he _expected_ to happen. 

Steve tried another smile, but the boy didn't relax. 

"When's Tony getting back?" 

"Stark? Probably as soon as Pepper lets him." 

Steve laughed. "Yeah, you're right." 

"What'd you find out last night, anyway?" Clint asked, suddenly serious as he turned to face him. 

Steve sighed, "Not a lot." 

Clint raised an eyebrow, and Steve had enough good sense to realize that if he were going to lie, he probably shouldn't have sighed. 

"Not a lot that I can tell you," He amended. "I overheard some stuff I shouldn't have." 

"What? You stalked him?" 

Clint was teasing, but Steve could feel his face flush anyway. "Not on purpose. He was talking to the kid and I didn't want to interrupt." 

"Is he okay?" 

Steve felt a sure of warmth flash through him at the question. For all the issues they had as a team, for all the arguments and clashing of personalities, they were still a team and they still cared about each other. 

"He says he is." Steve said, smile fading a bit. 

"That's helpful," Clint drawled. Steve sent him a half-hearted shrug, but understood where the other man was coming from. 

Tony never said he wasn't fine. Never. It was easier to tell he was lying when he was bleeding or bruised. But until he'd spent time observing the other man, really observing him, he hadn't been able to catch even the slightest shift to indicate a change in behavior. 

Steve supposed living your whole life in front of cameras could do that to a person. He'd been paraded around plenty during the war; told to smile, to be positive, to be strong when all he felt like doing was screaming his frustrations, fears, doubts. 

Tony had been paraded around a lot longer than that. He spent his entire life hiding his emotions from millions of cameras. And even two spies couldn't get past nearly four decades of practice. 

But Steve had gotten a glimpse last night. Had gotten another this morning. 

The kid sneezed, drawing Steve's attention from his thoughts. 

"Bless you," He said. 

"Thank you," The kid murmured so quietly Steve almost missed it. Steve grabbed a paper towel and approached the boy. He tried not to be bothered by how the kid tensed up, and handed it to him. 

The kid reached out a small hand and tentatively took it, wiping his freckled nose before folding it. 

Steve had to consciously control the urge to raise and eyebrow. 

"Thank you," The kid said again, shifting awkwardly in his chair. 

"You're welcome," Steve said. 

"W-where's the trash?" 

"It's okay, I've got it." Steve said, reaching out and plucking the paper towel from the boys hands. He dropped it off in the trashcan under the sink, ignoring Clint's smirk, and turned back to the table. 

The boy was still shifting awkwardly. 

"Thank you," he said again. 

Steve sent him a smile. "Is there...Is there anything you want to do?" 

The kid turned his gaze to Steve, uncertainty nearly tangible in his eyes. 

"You're busy," he said. 

Steve glanced to Clint, who had been uncharacteristically silent. 

"No we're not," Steve said. 

"You don't...you don't have ta." The kid murmured, shifting in his seat again, and looking supremely uncomfortable. 

Steve felt a twinge in his chest. 

"Well, I want to watch a movie, so that's what we're going to do." Clint said loudly, making a show of stretching before tossing his coffee cup rather gracelessly into the sink. 

Steve thought his expression might have mirrored the look of incredulity on the kid's face as Clint sauntered over to the table. 

"C'mon kiddo," the archer said. "Let's go." 

The kid shot a look at Steve, but clambered off the chair and trailed after Clint on the way to the common room. 

Steve followed them, bewildered. 

___________________________

They were three quarters of the way through a movie called Finding Nemo when the elevator chimed and immediately drew the kid's attention.

Steve straightened when he heard the tell-tale clack of expensive shoes on tile. Tony appeared around the corner a moment later, hair disheveled as if he'd been running his hands through it, tie loosened and the top two buttons undone. 

Steve looked away in time to see the kid jump from the ground where he'd been sitting and dart over to Tony. 

A grin crawled onto to Tony's face, bringing a bit of light into his tired eyes as the kid shuffled about in front of him. 

Tony squatted down to be at eye level with the boy, and when his smile widened just slightly, the kid seemed to take it as an invitation to hug the other man. 

"What the hell?" Clint murmured to himself, reminiscent of the incredulity he'd expressed the night before at the similar behavior. 

Steve watched, a smile making its way onto his own lips as Tony stood from the floor, boy in arms. He looked a bit uncomfortable with the development, but didn't seem discontent. He sent a slight smile to Steve. 

"What were you watching?" He asked, leaning back a bit to dislodged the child's head from his shoulder.

"Finding Nemo," The kid murmured softly. "Where were you?" 

Tony adjusted the kid in his grip and said, "I had a meeting I had to go to. Very boring." 

"Then why did you have ta go?" 

"I was wondering the same thing," Tony said, sending a pointed glance to the ceiling where Pepper's call had come through earlier that morning. "Are you hungry?" 

The boy squirmed a bit in Tony's arms, so Tony set him on the ground. "No." 

"Has he eaten yet?" Tony asked Steve instead. Steve startled at the question, not expecting to have been addressed.

"Nah," Clint answered for him. "He's been pouting since he's been awake." 

Tony looked like he was about to say something, mouth even opening before he seemed to decide better of it. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

"Then you're eating," Tony said, directing his gaze to the kid before walking towards the kitchen. 

Steve noticed it was slow enough that the boy could totter after him. 

A shuffling noise directed his attention back to Clint, who was shaking his head and mumbling to himself as he shut off the movie. 

"How did..." Steve started, "how did you know what to do with him?"

Clint looked at him with confusion, and Steve jerked his head in the direction the kid had followed Tony off in. 

"Oh," Clint said, shrugging in a forced blasé manner. "Kids like him, they don't like to make their own decisions." 

Steve was silent. 

He knew of Clint's own rather tortured past, and figured it was a 'takes one to know one' sort of deal. 

He supposed that being raised in an environment like what he knew of Clint's and what he'd figured out last night about the kid's would be enough to make anybody hesitant to ask for anything. Best to ask for nothing and avoid the trouble of someone taking offense to a request. 

He felt his heart ache a bit. 

"Someone should probably go check on Stark." Clint said, eyeing him pointedly. Steve felt his face flush. 

"Wha–I–"

"Give him dangerous chemicals, I'm sure he's fine. Not so sure I trust him with food. 's too simple." 

Steve snorted, trying to hide the heat of his indignation, and strode into the kitchen.


End file.
